The new New York.
I think it would be safe to say that the world is obsessed with the City of New York. The high-rise buildings towering heavenward, waves of people storming somewhere probably-important, Wall Street, expensive quaint cafes, cheap delis, struggling artists and their exquisite art -- all brave evidence that if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. It is a city that believes it is the epicenter of the universe, and her people are only too brazen about it.
Like many, that was what I comfortably assumed while trying to drink it all in everytime I went there. But the last time I visited, everything changed.
My brother-in-law was running the New York City marathon. So instead of spending a weekend on Netflix withdrawal, I decided to be supportive family. My sister and I tagged along to cheer for him. It was the standard 4 hour bus-ride in the wee hours of Saturday, November 1st from Boston.
When we arrived, it was still pretty early in the morning, cold and windy with slight showers. There we were at Times Square, an odd man cleaning the side-walk and a cold woman with a drink in hand. As we walked to 11th Ave at West 35th Street, we saw people - some hungover from a Halloween party the previous night, some with their morning Starbucks walking at medium pace and the inevitable few who were impeccably dressed, even at that hour. On the way, we stopped at a crowded local-cafe which was at best a 100sq feet. It had a newspaper-cutting framed on the wall boasting of being one of the "Best all-day breakfast" places in Manhattan. After rubbing elbows with too many people, we hurriedly scoffed down bread 'n eggs and headed to the marathon expo. Why the rush? Don't know - just an unexplainable urgency in the air.
At the entrance, the volunteers were welcoming us and guiding us in. I felt like a celebrity, and I wasn't even running! After trying out marathon-y things, eating complimentary quinoa and drooling over good-looking fitness freaks who were buying marathon-y things, we left to our Airbnb apartment at dusk. The host was a nice, jolly guy. He and his girlfriend showed us how we could help ourselves if we needed anything. He was between jobs and she was a teacher. They said they could use the extra cash from letting out the apartment while he stayed at her place. I thought it sounded like a win-win. After checking out his place, we had an early dinner and settled in for the night.
Next morning, more cold and windy than the previous, we rose early and headed out. My brother-in-law took leave to catch the ferry to the starting point and my sister and I, walked. Too early for a Sunday morning, but on the streets, the people were holding bells, foam-fingers and signs, and were resolutely headed somewhere. The roads were barricaded, so everybody had to stick to the side-walk to navigate. The runners weren't out yet. It was just the volunteers, cops and us - the regular people. But this time, although there were people walking quickly in one direction or another, it was easy, almost uncritical. It was as if the four-lane veins in the heart of the world were empty cavities, and the nerves around them were restless in anticipation of a rush.
As we walked, we saw hopeful parents holding signs like "We love U" for their 22 year old daughter's first marathon and five-year old kids holding "You are supermom" to cheer their mother. And then we saw New Yorkers who turned up with signs, just to encourage runners - people they don't know and have never met.
We chose Mile 15, and at freezing point, we stood with our signs cheering people on, as they began running in. Music filled the city streets as bands were posted at various spots. Volunteers at the water stations were heeding to the runners, while they were being thanked for the great job they were doing. And us - the regular people, were cheering people on as they powered forward. We were cheering ourselves on, to encourage a little longer and scream a little louder. The runners were motivating each other as they ran at various paces, and then thanking us for being there. New Yorkers were gathered all along the course- through 26.2 miles, five boroughs and 12 hours- to applaud while the runners ran. The runners were magnificent, some were 11 and some were 75, some on wheelchairs and some battling cancer, some were running for charity and some to make their mom proud. New York was running.
At 25, we saw runners pushing
against their will focusing on moving one foot at a time. A lot of
people were walking now, out of breath and with pulled muscles. The
temperature was not helping and sweat turned to salt on the runners'
faces. My sister and I held our banner that read "Convince your mind"
and yelled out to the runners to finish their last mile. Most people
smiled, some people teared up, but almost everybody who was walking
started to run. I don't mean to brag but we even bagged a few winks and
air-kisses. New Yorkers are fighters, and I didn't have a sliver of a doubt. We walked up to the finish in the middle of the
concrete jungle, and we saw triumph. People jumped, cried and kissed
their partners into victory. It wasn't an international deal that
would change the course of the world, it wasn't a financial decision
that would make the rich richer, and it was barely of consequence to
anybody's life. But that day, New York won.
The buildings were the
same, the bright lights were the same, and the
people were the same. It's just that on that day, the streets were
flooded with heroes in blue capes instead of Clark Kents. They were
all heroes, simply because they loved, cared and ran. And unlike every other day, it wasn't to a meeting or because they were late for a date. That day, on the empty
streets of New York I realized, that is not just the epicenter of the
universe. It is so much more.
Like many, that was what I comfortably assumed while trying to drink it all in everytime I went there. But the last time I visited, everything changed.
My brother-in-law was running the New York City marathon. So instead of spending a weekend on Netflix withdrawal, I decided to be supportive family. My sister and I tagged along to cheer for him. It was the standard 4 hour bus-ride in the wee hours of Saturday, November 1st from Boston.
When we arrived, it was still pretty early in the morning, cold and windy with slight showers. There we were at Times Square, an odd man cleaning the side-walk and a cold woman with a drink in hand. As we walked to 11th Ave at West 35th Street, we saw people - some hungover from a Halloween party the previous night, some with their morning Starbucks walking at medium pace and the inevitable few who were impeccably dressed, even at that hour. On the way, we stopped at a crowded local-cafe which was at best a 100sq feet. It had a newspaper-cutting framed on the wall boasting of being one of the "Best all-day breakfast" places in Manhattan. After rubbing elbows with too many people, we hurriedly scoffed down bread 'n eggs and headed to the marathon expo. Why the rush? Don't know - just an unexplainable urgency in the air.
At the entrance, the volunteers were welcoming us and guiding us in. I felt like a celebrity, and I wasn't even running! After trying out marathon-y things, eating complimentary quinoa and drooling over good-looking fitness freaks who were buying marathon-y things, we left to our Airbnb apartment at dusk. The host was a nice, jolly guy. He and his girlfriend showed us how we could help ourselves if we needed anything. He was between jobs and she was a teacher. They said they could use the extra cash from letting out the apartment while he stayed at her place. I thought it sounded like a win-win. After checking out his place, we had an early dinner and settled in for the night.
Next morning, more cold and windy than the previous, we rose early and headed out. My brother-in-law took leave to catch the ferry to the starting point and my sister and I, walked. Too early for a Sunday morning, but on the streets, the people were holding bells, foam-fingers and signs, and were resolutely headed somewhere. The roads were barricaded, so everybody had to stick to the side-walk to navigate. The runners weren't out yet. It was just the volunteers, cops and us - the regular people. But this time, although there were people walking quickly in one direction or another, it was easy, almost uncritical. It was as if the four-lane veins in the heart of the world were empty cavities, and the nerves around them were restless in anticipation of a rush.
As we walked, we saw hopeful parents holding signs like "We love U" for their 22 year old daughter's first marathon and five-year old kids holding "You are supermom" to cheer their mother. And then we saw New Yorkers who turned up with signs, just to encourage runners - people they don't know and have never met.
We chose Mile 15, and at freezing point, we stood with our signs cheering people on, as they began running in. Music filled the city streets as bands were posted at various spots. Volunteers at the water stations were heeding to the runners, while they were being thanked for the great job they were doing. And us - the regular people, were cheering people on as they powered forward. We were cheering ourselves on, to encourage a little longer and scream a little louder. The runners were motivating each other as they ran at various paces, and then thanking us for being there. New Yorkers were gathered all along the course- through 26.2 miles, five boroughs and 12 hours- to applaud while the runners ran. The runners were magnificent, some were 11 and some were 75, some on wheelchairs and some battling cancer, some were running for charity and some to make their mom proud. New York was running.
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| Cred: TCS NYC marathon photos |
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| Cred: TCS NYC marathon photos |
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| Cred: TCS NYC marathon photos |
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| Cred: jibberjabber.blogspot via Google |
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